Chapter 19 | Ravinica

Chapter 19

Ravinica

I HAD MY MEN BACK. Through all the trauma and tribulations I'd faced to get here, I couldn't forget that point.

I kept telling myself we would figure things out. The lies from the academy, the situation there, the Lepers Who Leapt keeping Corym hidden from me and any threats, all the things I had missed in my month-long absence . . .

We would figure them out.

For now, having my mates close was enough.

I considered Magnus and Grim my "mates," though Arne had been well on his way before . . . well, that . Sven was a mystery. He wasn't telling me much. I hoped he would in time, and that his bullying ways wouldn't come back once we returned to Vikingrune and he had his "reputation" to keep in line with his kinfolk.

Corym E'tar was the newest possibility I couldn't get my mind off of. We had gotten close and friendly in an unorthodox way—through training and mutual learning while I was his people's prisoner. Then he pulled the rug out from under me by agreeing with the elven elders that I couldn't leave their camp on my own volition after learning I was a map to Lady Elayina.

It was a mini-betrayal, in hindsight. Nothing we couldn't get past. He had stayed in Midgard to be with me, to protect me from the Huscarls who wanted to steal me away. Corym had abandoned his sister and brethren to stay, and I couldn't even imagine how much that pained him.

Of course, I had abandoned my family too—knocked out my half-brother Damon, and left Selby Village to join the academy. But this was different, because Corym actually liked his sister, and looked to her for advice.

I hoped he would miss his sister the same way I missed my mother Lindi. I was sad to be away from her, but I knew it was for a good cause I'd flown the coop. I'd see her again.

And now, the Lepers Who Leapt were going to take him from me. After the ordeal we'd just been through—the two of us running and fighting for our lives—it seemed criminal he was going to be ripped away from me.

What was the alternative? Take him to Vikingrune?

The idea made me nauseous. If I thought I was hated at the school for being a bog-blood, he would be downright persecuted. Wouldn't make it a week before I'd find him strung up from the highest gable of the tallest building, no doubt.

The thought was hard to fathom. I swore to myself I would see him again—I'd find out where Dieter and Frida were keeping him, and I'd come searching once things settled down on Academy Hill.

There were other people I missed on that hill, too. Dagny, my cat-shifting, bespectacled friend with the black-and-white bobcut. Thinking about her made me smile.

Randi made me chuckle and made my heart hurt, because my bestie always managed to stay so chipper and bubbly despite being the only dark-skinned girl I'd seen in a sea of white people. She made her own life and happiness, and didn't let anything or anyone stand in her way.

I could learn a thing or two from Randi Ranttir.

And then, of course, there was my half-brother Eirik. I was ashamed I hadn't thought of him as much as I should have while in the elf camp. My torrid memories with Grim and Magnus stole my mind more often than not, along with Arne's betrayal.

If I was ashamed . . . then what was he? It was shocking to me that he hadn't joined this group to come rescue me.

My own flesh and blood? Damn.

At the base of the hill where countless soldiers and Lepers had died, a river wrapped around a copse of trees. In the distance, I could see it expanded into a wider lake.

The first order of business was washing the blood and fight off our bodies, I told everyone. They all agreed, and I noticed the lust-filled looks a few of the men gave me.

Grim's smoldering expression and Magnus' intense brooding in his gray eyes made me shiver. Even Sven had a haughty I-know-what-you-want smirk on his face, which was stupidly alluring but also concerning. I didn't know him like I knew the others. Arne looked lost, trying to avoid eye contact with me, and Corym appeared forlorn and calculating, trapped in his own thoughts.

I wondered if the elf was deciding the same thing as I had: How he was going to find me once we were separated.

We helped Dieter, Frida, and the other Lepers drag their fallen comrades away from the fight so they could be buried. With everyone working together, it took little more than an hour to bury our dead in loose soil.

Dieter said a short eulogy over their nameless graves, all of us standing in a circle around the four rectangles of packed earth.

"They fought for what they believed in," Dieter began, clearing his throat. "They made the leap to join a cause they held dear, not to be so simply discarded by the same institution that had once called them sisters and brothers. The fact they died fighting against that same institution is proof of their validity and vindication. They'll go to Valhalla to feast with the gods and wage eternal wars against their enemies. Forever may they leap freely, lepers no more."

"Lepers no more," Frida and the rebels echoed in a quieter voice.

We bowed our heads, gave the dead a moment of silence, and wandered off toward the base of the cliff.

As we passed the battlefield—the scorched earth from the burnt and icy magic, the bodies already swarming with flies—I wrinkled my nose and frowned.

"What should we do about them?" I asked no one and everyone, gesturing at the body of a man who had been speared through the face by Arne Gornhodr.

"They made their decisions," Magnus said simply. "They were not our allies, so they shouldn't be treated as such."

Magnus Feldraug had the benefit of not being weighed down by emotions like I was. Must have been nice. I wasn't sure if it was because he was not a purely "living" human, or because of the trauma of his past—maybe even the magical amnesia that had displaced his childhood memories—that made him what he was.

The Magnus I knew was not a sociopath like everyone else thought. But try telling anyone that now, when he answered in such a cold, heartless way.

"So we let them rot?" I asked, eyes pinching helplessly.

"The gods will not dismay the decision, silvermoon."

"Fuck the gods," I scoffed, earning a whip-snap of heads and necks in my direction. Flushing from all the attention, I added, "What about our consciences? Our fates may be preordained by the Norns, but that doesn't mean we don't get to fill the moments with our own choices. We can't use the gods as scapegoats."

"Wise words, little fox," Arne said from behind me.

Face twisting, I growled over my shoulder without looking at him. "Fuck you, Arne. I didn't ask you." It was ruthless. I didn't want to hear his voice. I didn't need the turncoat trying to placate me.

He fell quiet, and I immediately felt like an asshole.

Grim, hulking next to me like an obedient sentinel, spoke in a low voice. "It's not a matter of gods, fates, or scapegoats, Ravinica. I think it's a matter of timing."

I looked up at him, eyes imploring.

"The time it would take to bury a score of bodies? We'd be here all morning, inviting more Huscarls to find us. Then we'd have to kill them too. And bury them. And the next lot. When would it end?"

For some reason, his words made me smile, probably making me look like a madwoman. I agreed about the timing, but the never-ending loop of murder and burials? It sounded ridiculous.

"You agree with Magnus, then?" I asked him point-blank.

The man had thrown on a dead man's garb, and looked like a Huscarl. I thought he was much better off without the clothes, personally. Then again, it would have been utterly distracting to have him walking next to me and carrying on a conversation with that thing slapping around his thighs while I was fully clothed.

Small blessings? Massive blessings? I sighed. I was hopeless.

"Sadly, I do agree with Magnus," Grim said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Around me, I want everyone to speak their minds without fear of retribution." I paused, lifting a finger. "Except Arne. He should fear retribution."

Sven snickered behind me.

Hearing my bully laugh made my shoulders stiffen, and I shook my head. Ugh. I'm sounding like him. That's why he finds it funny. Shit.

With great reluctance, I stopped walking and turned to face Arne. After nearly running into me with his head bowed in humiliation, he lifted his chin to gaze into my face. His bright eyes sparkled, dewy with remorse.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," I spit out. Though I shouldn't be sorry . . . I can't act like a bully just because he's on my shit-list. It's not me.

Plus, the iceshaper had been in the group that saved my life. I couldn't forget he had joined them when it mattered most—when my life was on the line.

Gods above, we may not have even won without him. That ice shield he cast on the trees to keep the other group away from us long enough may have been the thing that tipped the scales.

A slight sliver of a smile showed on Arne's pretty, bruised face. "It's fine. I deserve it."

Great. Not only is he ashamed about what he did, he's also wallowing in self-pity.

He needed to snap out of it. I hoped he would realize it sooner than later, or else he'd never live up to my high expectations.

I didn't want Arne Gornhodr's apology. I wanted him to make amends and prove to me he could be trusted. I also didn't want to have to tell him that's what I wanted. He should realize it on his own. Sink or swim.

Tilting my head, I nudged my chin toward him. "Who did that to your face?"

His eyes danced to the men around me. "You're looking at them."

Sven raised his hand proudly. "It was me." His eyes darted to Grim across the way. "Mostly."

I didn't need to know what that look he gave Grim was about. I'd let the shifters keep their little moments together for themselves. If it meant them not killing each other, I was all for it.

The Tors hated the Kolls. Yet they united for me. Strange.

Maybe I had read Sven Torfen wrong this entire time. The way he proudly exclaimed he had beaten Arne to a pulp didn't get the round of applause he had hoped for, but it did show me there were things about the wolf shifter I didn't know. Like Grim, Magnus, and Arne, it made me want to learn more about him.

I asked, "How did you guys figure out he betrayed me?"

We continued walking to the riverbank when it opened up into a pretty lake away from the bloody river of the battle. During the short trek, Sven explained in detail how he had tailed Arne after recovering him from the initial elven attack. He said he found it odd Arne hadn't been killed with the Huscarls.

An astute observation, I thought.

Arne had been meeting with Hersir Kelvar, Sven said.

The iceshaper didn't deny it. "The Whisperer wanted to learn about the elves, mostly. Also about you, Ravinica." Fidgeting his hands in front of him, he added, "I tried to keep as much away from his mindshaping whispers as I could."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Arne reached into his tunic and produced a crumpled up wad of paper. Slowly, he handed it to me with a slightly trembling hand. "Well, I kept this from him, for one."

I stifled a gasp and took the wadded paper, unfolding it.

It was my hand-drawn family tree from Mimir Tomes. The one that had gone missing from my garb after Astrid's attack, while I recovered in Eir Wing. I'd assumed one of the doctors had taken it when unclothing me to treat my wounds.

My eyes darted to Magnus—the only other person who would know what this was, since he was there when I'd made it—and the bloodrender quickly glanced down at the ground and found an interesting flower to look at.

"What is it, little sneak?" Grim asked.

I folded the crinkled paper and tucked it into my shirt. "It's not important. Not now."

Grim grunted.

I asked, "Did you look at it when you stole it from me, Arne?"

He shook his head. "Only a passing glance, to try and identify its importance. I promise I don't know what the letter entails, little fox."

Good. Because it's not a letter.

It was a death list. An answer to my questions, and the reason I'd come to Vikingrune Academy in the first place.

Eventually, I would hopefully have the heart to tell them what it was.

Today was not that day. Not when these men had just risked their lives to save mine.

Studying Arne's face, I believed him when he said he didn't know what it was, because it would have alarmed him and he wouldn't have been able to hide the concern.

Who would, when the family tree implicated him, Grim, Magnus, and Sven in my assassination plans?